The End, Maybe
by RavenDaine
Summary: After weeks of giving into her...urges...Jo has decided to end it once and for all with Zane.  But ripping off the Band-aid might not be that easy.
1. Chapter 1

NOTE: I'm publishing the start of this story now, before the new episode tonight negates the story I've imagined... Reviews are much appreciated, but I mostly hope you get some small enjoyment out of what I've written. I do not own Eureka or its characters, and this story is purely for fun! Thanks!

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><p>It was his eyes. They were so…blue. She was perfectly under control around him, except when it came to his eyes. Every time he looked at her. Or when she could feel him thinking about looking at her. Or when he was deliberately not looking at her.<p>

"Damn it," Jo muttered distractedly to the empty office. Her brain was full of much stronger words for this occasion, but she rarely swore. A product of being raised Catholic, she supposed. Not that she was really a good Catholic anymore. A blush threatened to tint her cheeks when she thought about what her grandmother would say—all that premarital sex. And with an atheist, no less. It was definitely a good thing her grandmother had died years before one troublemaking, wisecracking, seriously un-Catholic Zane Donovan came into the picture. As soon as she thought it, Jo tried to take it back. That was a horrible thing to say about a family member, even in one's head.

Zane. Jo kept reminding herself that the past was the past and that she was completely over her former almost-fiancé. She had never been all that close to telling any other guy she loved him, let alone that she would happily (more than happily—ecstatically, blissfully, euphorically) spend the rest of her life with him. Coming back to the present to find that this Zane had never given her a rose on their non-existent first date, never kissed her slowly and patiently, never torn her clothes in his impatience to get to the fun stuff, never got on one knee to call her "JoJo" and lay his heart on the line. It almost broke her completely.

But that was all behind her. With time, she had moved on. Even when that idiot Fargo had spilled the beans about the other timeline to Zane, leading to predictable curiosity on his part and renewed heat in his gaze, Jo had remained strong. She let him kiss her that one time in Carter's office, but only to prove that her resolve was unwavering and that any "things" she might "feel" were just a healthy woman's response to any decently attractive man. They weren't emotions, they were urges. Normal, biological urges. And if she had given into those urges once or twice, or five…dozen times over the past six weeks, that was simply her way of working the stupid little biological whim out of her system. And now it was over, once and for all. Sunday night was the end, the absolute last time—it was a new week. Jo checked her watch. She was a whole 62 hours and 47 minutes into her new era.

Jo tapped a pen on her desk phone, trying to will it to ring. She desperately needed a project, anything to keep her occupied. Her brain waves appeared to be ineffectual, as the phone sullenly refused to oblige. It had been an extraordinarily quiet couple of days, with only a single security case landing on Jo's desk. Of course, the lack of outside contact might have something to do with the broken comm pad staring her in the face. Her personal communication device had gone on the fritz early Monday morning, and by midday the screen was reduced to a complete blank, punctuated by the briefest bursts of static. And now, close to closing time on Wednesday, there was still nothing coming through. Jo should have called it in right away, but she had balked at the prospect, with good reason.

Calling in the problem would require calling internal tech support, and she knew who would be on the other end of the line. Zane. That's right—the one and only mastermind of the Global Dynamics network, ex (please God, give her the strength to keep it that way—62 hours, 49 minutes) lover, blue eyes owner. Jo knew that he would come into her office, look at her and ask what she had done to her poor, innocent computer and that would be it. Years of Special Forces training had made her unshakeable, but thirty seconds alone with him in her conveniently private office and she'd be finished. Just the thought of giving in to her Zane-related urges once again brought a flush up to her hairline and a familiar heat in other, less mentionable parts of her.

Just as Jo thought she'd have to step outside to cool down, her phone finally rang. In her bordering-on-desperate need for distraction, Jo pressed the button to answer before

"Lupo."

"Uh, Jo? You realize I've been trying to reach you all day? Your comm must be down." Fargo. Bad sign.

"I, uh, hadn't noticed. Thought it was just a quiet week," she stammered out, crossing her fingers that Fargo was even worse at reading people over the phone than he was in person.

"A quiet week? At GD? Wishful thinking, huh?" Fargo let out a quick sigh. Finding himself director in this timeline had seemed to age him. Well, if not always in maturity, at least in the amount of sighing he did these days. Jo relaxed a bit, recognizing the signs of general frustration, rather than anger, in Fargo's voice. "Well, we've got to get that fixed down there. I might need you again, and it took me ages to find your actual phone number."

"Yeah, of course, I'll call someone in right away." That sucked. Well, Jo supposed she couldn't work outside of the loop forever. Maybe she'd call down to Henry's and see if Grace could spare him for a bit. Nice thing about living in genius central-plenty of other people who could fix computer issues. Plenty of other people who didn't put her stomach in knots and annihilate her self-control.

"No need, Jo. Your gracious director sent word down just before I called you. Someone should be there any second. You're welcome." The self-importance in his voice was grating. Trust Fargo to think he was doing her a favor and to expect her ever-lasting gratitude.

Jo didn't have time for this. Tech support would be knocking on her door, and she had a feeling that she knew exactly who it would be. Slamming the phone down with just a touch too much force, her brain was already racing with escape plans. She hadn't done lab security checks this afternoon, so it wasn't like she had no excuse to leave her office. Step one: get out immediately. She dove under her desk and grabbed for her shoes (what on earth convinced her to kick them off earlier-these were precious seconds she was wasting). Holding her heels in one hand, she figured she'd put them on once she was safely out of sight.

Barefoot, she was rounding her desk before she noticed that her door was already open.

"Fuck."


	2. Chapter 2

NOTE: Sorry for the long time between postings here-I'm what you might call a...deliberate writer. I've avoided watching any episodes since 4x13 "Glimpse" so as not to get influenced, but that might mean I'm far off in my thinking of what's happened! I have an idea of where this story could go from here, but I also like it as a two-chapter vignette of sorts. Let me know what you think-your thoughts and suggestions are deeply cherished! I do not own Eureka or its characters, and this story is purely for fun. Thanks for reading!

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><p>"Fuck."<p>

"Was that a suggestion, JoJo? Because you know how much I like it when you're pressed up against that desk." Zane's eyes sparkled with mirth, though Jo swore she could physically feel the heat behind his words.

"Don't you knock?" Jo was pleased that her voice sounded a lot calmer than she felt at this precise moment.

"And risk bruising my lily-soft hands?" Zane put a hand to his heart in mock horror, and then smiled brilliantly. "So what about it, babe? You gonna make me do all the seduction work myself?"

"If I remember correctly, you're here to get my comm back online and nothing else." Jo fixed her gaze intently on a point just beyond his right ear.

"I've always been a stellar multi-tasker," he retorted, giving her an exaggerated leer and grinning wickedly. Oh God, she remembered. How could he banter so levelly? How could he smile and rub the back of his neck so coolly when her entire body felt like it was jumping in every direction at once? No. It was time to take her stand.

"Zane, stop it. It's over. We're over."

"Sure, sweetheart, never heard that one before." Zane pushed the door the rest of the way shut and stepped closer, his lips curving with anticipation.

Jo met his eyes for a split second and immediately regretted the decision, the force of their shared lust hitting her like a brick to the face. A really tempting brick. She backed up a few hasty steps to keep her safe distance, forcing her arms not to reach out and pull him to her.

She crossed her mutinous arms across her chest and put all her willpower into forcing a frown. "I'm serious. Just do whatever it is you do and get out."

"But what I do best is-"

"Shut it. I mean it-no games. We're done."

"Fine. Whatever you say, Lupo." Zane shrugged and shifted focus to the technological task at hand. Jo felt oddly disappointed. She knew that it was what she wanted, well, at least what she needed, but it still stung a bit when he dropped the saccharine pet names.

Zane crossed over to the desk with the apparent ease of one seemingly unburdened by the unsettlingly heated memories that swirled in her brain whenever they were in close quarters together. Jo, meanwhile, stayed near her corner like a toddler in self-imposed time-out. She watched Zane's movements warily, but felt like the greatest threat was over. She had lasted through initial contact, kept her distance and her chilly facade. Test passed. Although if she was being honest with herself, it was a pretty meager pass. Say a C. Or maybe C-. Whatever-that wasn't important.

With a dramatically grandiose sigh, Zane fell back into the chair, swiveling it back and forth and rocking it beyond the bounds of its intended motion. Jo took a step forward and put out a hand, but clenched it and stifled her rebuke. Keep this simple. Simple and safe.

Zane stalled another half minute, abusing the desk chair, and he snuck a glance at Jo to see if he was getting under her skin. He gripped the desk edge and pulled himself forward with a hint of a smirk, and Jo worried that she wasn't quite successful hiding her annoyance. With his usual hunch forward, Zane peered at the comm pad interestedly, his mind as always intrigued by a technological puzzle.

"So, didn't realize it was broken?" Zane looked left at her, gesturing exaggeratedly to the black screen.

"That's right." Jo shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that she had let it sit around dead so she wouldn't have to see him. That would give him the upper hand.

"Huh. Funny. I guess you shouldn't expect the security chief to know anything about gadgets. All brawn, right?"

Jo clenched her teeth, knowing he was trying to rile her up, and silently let him go to work without a retort. Still, the barb stuck. She and the other Zane had struggled with their discrepancy in science aptitude. There was only so long she could pretend to understand what he was talking about before he'd know he lost her somewhere back around "muon neutrino" and quit. It stung a bit that she couldn't keep up with his passions, no matter how often he had reassured her, blaming himself for being a "blabbering idiot."

Lost in thought, it took Jo several moments to realize that Zane had her comm running. And that he was nonchalantly flicking through its contents. She started forward-her life was detailed on that thing-but Zane had quick reflexes and held it firmly away from her.

"You keep a journal in this thing? Not a smart move," he said, suppressing laughter. She did-well, you wouldn't exactly call it a journal. More quick notes. A habit she picked up in the service. Write down your emotions and they're easier to deal with and set aside. A lifesaver in nights of fear and loneliness, even guilt, overseas. These days, of course, her emotions were a lot less fear and a lot more lust.

"Give it to me." He was such a child. Poking in her business, where she didn't want him-especially in her emotional business.

"'_Trying to push down how much I want it. Feels like every nerve is straining when I think about him_,'' He put on a breathy voice, reading one of her quick notes. "Oh, Lupo, I didn't know you cared-"

"How dare you?" Indignation boiled over all of her careful attempts at reserve, and she grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him up out of the chair. Her chair. Her office. And his stupid presence, snarking and smirking. She had both hands holding his shirt now, her brain busy working on a tirade. But then a funny thing happened-he tossed (gently-he loved computers too much to truly toss one) her comm pad on the desk and met her eyes. Challengingly, he tilted his head just the slightest bit. And her hands, ignoring the directions of the rational part of her brain, yanked hard, tugging his mouth to hers. The heat between them could have convinced bystanders that their separating had been 3 years rather than 3 days. Both tried to pull the other deeper, hands grasped in hair, frantic in their passion.

He pulled her hips against his in impatience, while her hands fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. He insisted on wearing these ridiculously tight shirts-not that she usually complained about the view, but they were far too difficult to pry off. Zane smiled into their kiss, amused at her struggles, and she broke away, panting, to glare at him in frustration.

He laughed in response, but complied by taking half a step back and peeling his shirt off and dropping it to the floor. "Happy now?"

For the briefest of moments Jo thought about taking the opportunity to tease him, maybe seem to consider the merits of his chest, but her body was too eager for flirtatious games. Instead, she responded by pressing herself back against his delightfully bare torso and tracing her hands along the muscles of his back.

Zane dipped his head to meet her lips with unchanged greed and his deft physicist's hands went to work on evening the score, clothes-wise. "You're one to talk," he muttered between kisses. "Your business-" (he pushed her dark jacket down her arms) "-casual-" (he tugged her shirt from its neat tuck) "-and all its damn-" (he undid buttons at a near super-human pace) "-layers." Jo shuddered in delight as he smoothly pushed her shirt off her shoulders and trailed his strong hands down her arms.

"Shut up." Not the wittiest of replies, but it wasn't exactly like her brain was running full speed in the repartee department at the moment. In fact it was fairly impressive, she thought, that her brain was able to fulfill its basic obligations and keep her breathing and on her feet, considering about 99 percent of it was occupied with variants of, _Oh God that feels good don't stop holy Jesus more_. They were of one mind in that respect, it seemed, as they returned to frenzied kisses while both fumbled to rid themselves of their pesky interfering pants.

Down to her underthings, Jo pushed on Zane's shoulders, abruptly parting their kiss and causing him to stagger back. Before he could misconstrue her sudden action, she reached back with both hands to undo the clasp of her bra. This was one of her favorite parts of the pre-sex dance, and she watched his face intently as she slipped out of the garment and dropped it to the floor. It was a view she knew he savored beyond words. Zane's face darkened with lustful admiration as his eyes darted greedily between her breasts. He had told her a few weeks before that choosing which one to look at was like choosing his favorite law of motion. Of course, there were three of those. And, he had added mock seriously, he would not be opposed to her obtaining a third breast, if such technology became possible. This was Eureka after all. The memory of that moment still brought an un-Jo-like giggle to her lips.

She let his desire fill her completely, tingling with his appreciation. With a low sound in his throat-he would probably choose to classify it as a manly growl, though Jo bemusedly thought it was more of a groan-Zane moved forward with renewed purpose. He swiftly stepped out of his own boxers and yanked her underwear unceremoniously down her legs and they fell to the floor. She moved to kick them aside, but Zane didn't give her a chance, he closed the space so quickly. He crushed her against the wall, pressing every inch of their bodies together, and she gasped in equal parts surprise and excitement. And possibly the barest touch of pain-Zane was a lot stronger than he used to be.

"Here?" Zane looked at her quizzically-as quizzically as anyone could muster at this particular kind of moment. Jo knew it wasn't a suggestion of locale, but rather a decidedly non-rhetorical question. Had they had sex in this spot before. Her and the other Zane. It was some kind of strange game Zane played, though Jo couldn't figure out whether it was out of a peculiar sense of competition or just the desire to sully every inch of her office. And his place. And her room at Carter's place. And, oh God, Carter's kitchen. That had been ill-advised, she conceded, but the Carter-Blake clan was most definitely gone that weekend and she was sure (mostly) that SARAH had been in sleep mode. Whatever his actual motivation, Zane asked nearly every time. And Jo answered, her recollections clear. Though in her more lucid, less heated moments she wished she could forget the details of the other timeline, every intimate moment was burned into her memory.

"Yes," Jo replied levelly, knowing he'd not continue without an answer. And she really wanted him to continue. Mid-fun stoppages were not on the menu for this afternoon, thank you.

Zane lifted her firmly and re-situated their activities on a spot of the wall about two feet further from the desk. He met her eyes and arched an eyebrow.

Jo smirked and answered his silent prodding. "Never." Zane responded eagerly. Jo arched her back into the wall, every inch of her appreciating his enthusiastic attentions-to her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. She tried to press her body up farther into his reach, but despite her not inconsiderable strength, there was only so much she could do. She wasn't the Cirque du Soleil type, here. Zane was more intuitive, or her frustrations more evident, than she thought, and he took a different tack. He boosted her off the ground and wrapped her legs around his waist, apparently dispensing with the notion of continued playfulness. Not that she minded skipping to the main event-it had been close to three days, after all. Her body was impatient, and it was no real secret that his was, too.

Neither one was a particularly reserved partner, and their awareness of the world outside this office was long gone. Lucky then, Jo supposed later, that the next minutes passed without any interruption. And that there was only a storage room on the other side of this particular wall...

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><p>Zane left soon afterwards. Not out of any particular rush, but both he and Jo were always rather quiet after a good round. Sated and quiet. Jo was still sitting, still mostly naked, in her office chair as he got dressed. She was aware that she probably looked a fool, eyes closed, a lazy smile on her face. When she heard him buckling his belt, she peeked open her eyes to find his gaze contemplating her levelly. His features switched quickly to a mild grin when she caught his eye, and he walked around her desk, pausing briefly to pluck her bra off the floor. He squatted in front of her chair and she sat up a bit with curiosity. He stared oddly at the bra in his hands for a moment, a look of faint longing on his face. <em>What<em>, Jo wondered. _He probably wants a souvenir. Typical._

Jo cocked her head, waiting for something to happen, not wanting to be the one to splinter the strange peace by asking what on earth he was doing. He finally broke his pose and reached for her torso, brushing his thumbs gently and purposefully over her breasts as he reached around her and clasped the bra back on. With a glance up at her, Zane started to straighten up. Standing, but braced forward with his hands on the arms of her chair, he claimed her lips in a gentle, patient, yielding kiss, a far cry from the hunger of before. He broke off too soon and walked out, pulling the door quietly shut behind him.

She stared at the back of that door for a heavy moment, the familiar conflict of emotions rising to supplant the contentedness of satisfied need. The relief that he had left. The yearning for him to walk back in. Crap. The distant ache in her insides that told her she'd want him again. Crap. Guilt swarmed among her thoughts as she (too late now-thanks brain) remembered her pledge to quit cold turkey. Shit. She gathered her clothes and put them on, attempting to smooth out the new wrinkles as she went.

_So much for willpower_, she thought as she glanced at her watch and sighed. 0 hours, 9 minutes.


End file.
